


Damn that Smile

by Imagineitdear



Series: Benefits [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Depressed Steve Rogers, Gay Bar, Historical Inaccuracy, Hook-Up, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Meet-Cute, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagineitdear/pseuds/Imagineitdear
Summary: In which Steve meets Bucky at a Brooklyn bar in the 1930's, and the rest is inevitable.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Benefits [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728958
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	Damn that Smile

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in such a rut when it comes to writing right now, so here's hoping posting something will kick me out of it!

Steve walked through the door of Little Sandy’s, and it was like a wall hit him. Air  heavy as soup, doused in clashing scents of cologne and sprinkled with that special, ground pepper brand of body odor. A tinny record was playing--live bands only came on Tuesdays--but Steve hadn’t come to dance. 

He promised himself he wouldn’t come at all. Not again, anyway. Yet one year later and one year poorer here he was, back right where he started, desperate for a taste of skin and intimacy. Small comforts, for such a heavy price. 

But Sarah Rogers wasn’t around anymore to stop him. He always came home wearing bruises like badges, most days, but the nights he got them from cruising they weren’t so easy to wear. Maybe that's how Sarah Rogers knew the difference--how he carried it, in his stride or on his shoulders. She got a fear in her eyes, then, righteous fury freezing into something brittle and scared. So he kept himself away. He didn’t like breaking her heart over things he shouldn’t have to begin with, anyway.

There was the irony. She ended up being the one who left, and broke his heart instead.

The few boys in the bar were roudy tonight, by the looks of it, most on the dance floor in various degrees of drunkenness. Beetee tended the bar same as always, Steve noted as he made his way over, glad to see some things never changed. The lanky redhead did a double take when he saw Steve.

“Look who crawled out of the gutter,” he said after he recovered, grinning that wide Irish grin. “Tried the straight and narrow for a while, did we?”

“Just busy,” Steve shrugged, sitting on an empty stool. 

Beetee snorted, not buying it. “Whiskey not gin?”

“You got it, sir,” Steve grinned, and took another look around while Beetee poured a glass.

He spotted quite a few familiar faces, still. Eddie with that greasy little mustache swinging a twink Steve didn’t know, Palmer and Rochette playing cards in the back corner, Benny from Steve’s apartments swinging a tall drag girl. Plenty of others Steve could immediately peg as sailors, just here tonight for a good time.

“Put it on my tab, Beetee,” a voice said from Steve’s back, then. He whirled around in surprise, never liked people sneaking up on him from that angle.

The man behind him didn’t belong, to be sure. Dressed too well, smile too wide, fingers drumming on the bartop as he suavely sat next to Steve. Probably a discreet or a cruiser out of convenience--no scandal pregnancies happening in this business. Or maybe just a one-timer, here tonight for a thrill. Steve had seen the likes of this young man before, even if the seeing itself made him weak in the knees. 

(And usually ended him up on his knees.)

“That’s alright, I’ve got it,” Steve said, proud of himself for self-control. Especially with how long it’d been. 

No matter how long, no pomade-slicking man was worth the chance of getting beat on as bad as he’d been a year ago. The last time. Steve only hoped to exchange a little action with Beetee or Benny tonight. One of the regulars, that was his newly-formed rule. Something quick. Something safe.

“I insist--”

“You best not insist on Grant’s account,” Beetee cut in before Steve could. “He’s not the easily persuaded sort.” The bartender winked merrily at Steve, sliding over his glass, before moving away to help another customer.

“That so?” the discreet said in an amused voice, and Steve straightened his spine as well as it would allow him before turning to face this man head-on. He stuck out a hand before Steve could speak, saying, “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

Steve snorted at the made up name, though he knew he wasn’t one to talk. “Not looking for trouble tonight, sir,” he said, and turned to swallow down a mouthful of whiskey.

“What are you looking for?” this Bucky asked as he did, watching with a raised brow and a smirk. Steve felt his stomach flip in anticipation, even as he tried to quell the traitorous reaction. 

(Then again, when hadn’t his body been a traitor to him?)

He knew what this Bucky wanted. Steve was a fairy through and through, looked the part and loved to play the part, when he was feeling up to it. When he was feeling brave enough.

Not tonight. “Nothing you’re selling, pal,” he said.

“Try me,” Bucky said, and he boldly put a hand on Steve’s knee. Steve’s mouth opened in protest, only to gape when the guy looked at his crotch like it was a delicious snack, caught Steve’s eye with clear intent. His eyes were so damn pretty, and genuine-looking, and lust-filled.

Steve gulped.

A minute later he had Bucky slammed against the alley wall, in a nice spot between a large dumpster and the corner of two brick buildings. Smelled like shit, of course, but no interruptions. 

(Steve really didn’t want to get interrupted right now.)

Their mouths fit like a two-piece puzzle. Steve would never admit it out loud, but after 15 minutes Bucky had to be the best kisser Steve’d ever given time to. It could be his mouth, it could be plain practice, but Steve was willing to bet it was both. Bucky moaned in encouragement at Steve’s insistent tongue, sucking hard on it and giving back as hard as he got. His hands moved to grip Steve’s ass and Steve wouldn’t even stop him now, probably, would bend over for this man with how fired up he got him. Bastard.

But when Bucky spun them around, Steve against the wall, he dropped to his knees and started mouthing against his cock through the fabric, making tiny, decadent sounds.

“Holy hell,” Steve groaned, “ _ Please _ ,” and that got Bucky laughing throatily against his thigh before he acquiesced. A few seconds later and the man had his cock out in the chilly November air, only to swallow it down to the root. Steve nearly came just from the shock.

The next minute or so he didn’t remember at all, besides the mind-numbing pleasure. If Bucky wasn’t the best kisser in the world, he surely was the best on his knees. Steve came embarrassingly quickly, hands tightening in that thick, dark hair, completely ruining Bucky’s suave do. He didn’t seem to mind though, groaning as he swallowed and gently kissing Steve’s cock as it softened. 

“That what you were looking for, sweetheart?” he asked, looking up with gentle but humorous eyes that shone bright in the dark. Steve idly wondered if he could keep him before realizing he'd been asked a question.

“What about you?” he asked once he caught his breath, tugging at Bucky’s shoulder before he assented and stood. Now Steve had to look up, not down, to see that suave face. He didn’t mind. “How does a fella like you like to be treated?” Steve slid a hand to Bucky’s crotch intently.

The humor in his expression melted into lust, and Bucky whispered, “Just like that, sweetheart.” So Steve handled him through his expensive trousers for a minute, listening closely to the sounds the bigger man made before starting to reach for his belt.

But Bucky twisted him around so Steve was facing the wall, breathing, “Let me just--” before slotting the bulge of his trousers right between Steve’s asscheeks. Steve felt his face heat at the feeling, only burning up further as Bucky grabbed his hips and thrust into that valley. Steve had to brace himself with both hands, once the bigger man got going. The palms of his hands rubbed raw on the brick, as Bucky’s thrusts turned rough against him. He almost offered to let Bucky inside, but he seemed quite happy with the arrangement how it was, muffling his groans against Steve’s shoulder.

Finally he stilled. Bucky’s breath hitched, almost like a sob in Steve’s ear, before his limbs melted and he was merely holding the smaller man from behind. Their staccato breathing gusted into the night air, the only sound.

But no. As reality leaked back in, Steve knew that wasn't true. Time hadn't stopped around them--there was the sound of a door shutting, and muffled talking, and horns beeping not far. The city never went to bed. Steve tensed, just a little, and in their full embrace Bucky must have felt it--he quickly detangled himself. 

He didn’t walk away right off, though, still brushing at the filth on his knees when Steve turned and stretched his back. Bucky gave him an amiable smile, saying, “Didn’t give you any cramps like that, did I?”

“My back’s no good, doesn’t matter the position,” Steve shrugged, surprised Bucky was still talking to him and he was answering. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Well you didn’t hurt me neither,” Bucky grinned, too wide. A smile Steve was sure he reserved for when he got his way, though that was likely often. 

(Damn that smile.)

Steve huffed and started out of the alley, glaring when Bucky met his stride. “You can’t walk out of here  _ with _ me, jerk,” he said, lightly shoving Bucky back.

For the first time Bucky’s face flickered in uncertainty, looking out at the street ahead. He masked it quickly, though. “Guess I’ll see you around Old Sandy’s?”

“I don’t know, will ya?” Steve shot back as he walked away, and Bucky let out a surprised laugh.

“Didn’t see you till tonight, is all,” he called out, too loudly. Steve shook his head and rounded the corner, not willing to stick around and get arrested just for this stupid man’s sake.

His words stuck with Steve, though, as he laid in bed that night. Sated for the first time in a long time, but curious now about this Bucky. At his insinuation that he didn’t see Steve till that night, implying he was more a regular at Old Sandy’s than Steve had assumed.

No matter. Steve would only go back there when he got too fed up. It wasn’t worth the risk, otherwise.

(He already felt fed up on this Bucky.)

\---

It was three weeks later that Steve walked into the joint again, and only because he had some sense of self-control. The problem he hadn’t foreseen, you see, was how much harder it was to live without intimacy and pleasure when the taste of it was still fresh in your mouth. 

And Bucky’s taste was a particular brand of sweet Steve already felt hooked on.

He wasn’t there, yet anyway, so Steve made time with Beetee and the rest of the blokes. “Saoirse loved him anyway, the devil,” Beetee was grumbling, “my own sister, marrying a Lutheran. Ma says they’re not invited to Christmas or anything. I only see her when I can get away on Sundays, most o’the time.”

“How’s your ma, Steve?” Eddie asked, his fairy on his arm. The rest of the boys looked at Steve brightly, hoping for a better story.

Steve felt his face smile, stiffly, as he answered, “Gone to be with my pa, now, fellas.”

A respectful quiet fell upon the scene, a few taking off their caps and crossing themselves.

“I’m sorry for that,” the twink on Eddie’s arm said, giving Steve a hesitant clap on the shoulder. He smiled in gratitude, and the rest offered similar muttered condolences before dispersing.

“Who’s your fella, Eddie?” Steve asked when those two remained, and Eddie’s little mustache twitched in surprise.

“Oh! Sorry, forgot you haven’t been around a while, Steve, this is my best guy Denver,” he said, pulling the kid closer by his waist as he shook hands with Steve.

“Denver like the city?” Steve asked, and the guy smirked.

“Something like that,” he said. 

“Saw him out there when I was meeting for business,” Eddie said, “finally convinced him to see a real city.”

“Lots more pretty boys for sure,” Denver snarked, and Eddie cuffed him playfully. “A fella’s got eyes,” he pouted, “First Bucky, now him…”

“How long has Bucky been cruising here?” Steve asked, curiosity flaring at the mere mention of the man’s name.

“Few months, I think. Mostly just dances or plays cards with the boys, though,” Eddie said, shrugging. “Comes from money I’d say. We’ll see how long he sticks.”

“Ed I love this song!” Denver said as a new record started, pulling at Eddie with insistence.

“Good to see you around, again!” Ed said as he was dragged onto the dance floor.

Steve watched with a small smile as the couple swung to the jazzy tune, content to be an onlooker. He tried tapping his foot to the beat, though even that was a lost cause.

“Bucky give you a good time, the other night?” Beetee said behind him, making Steve jump. 

He must have heard Steve fishing. “He’s an interesting fella,” was all Steve gave up, and Beetee snorted.

“That’s for sure. Benny thinks he’s a copper.”

Steve whipped around, feeling the blood drain from his face. “That so?”

“Relieved to see ya, actually. You’re the first I’ve seen him leave with. Wanted to warn you before you did but you were gone the next second. He didn’t try to arrest you or nothing, then?”

Steve shook his head, frowning. Trying to remember anything suspicious, though as his mind replayed it got stuck on Bucky’s expert mouth around his cock. What copper knew how to suck cock like that? “If he is he’s a damn good actor,” Steve admitted. 

Beetee laughed hard, shaking his head. “I missed your mouth, Grant,” he said fondly. 

“That right?” Steve smirked at him, and Beetee blushed.

A couple hours and a reciprocated blowjob later, Steve lay in bed and listened to the city, his breathing adding to the cacophony of sound. He thought of Bucky, curled around his back, just holding him in that quiet corner. The stillness of existence, the two of them breathing as one.

He turned on his side and fell asleep.

\--

Steve came for the band, the next week, or so he told himself. Lots more johns in the club for the live music, the sound leaking out as Steve approached Old Sandy’s. A whole possey of sailors, tall and well-muscled, and a few more suits than usual as well. Steve grinned at Beetee as he made his way to the bar, weaving through the crowd.

“Don’t be coming back so soon, Mr. Grant, I’ll start gettin’ used to ya again!” Beetee laughed. It  _ had  _ only been 4 days.

“Didn’t want to miss the band!” Steve yelled over the blaring trumpet, and Beetee slid him a filled glass with an eye roll.

“Cause I know you love dancing!” he said wryly with a jerk of his elbow toward the crowd, packed tight in the too-narrow room. Steve squinted his eyes, looking for a certain face in the masses. “He’s spinning Denver over there!” Beetee pointed helpfully, and Steve was too busy looking to deny his assumption.

And there he was. God, but Bucky knew how to  _ dance _ . Denver was nothing to budge at either, but Steve could tell he was hardly keeping up with the man, the blurry speed his feet moved. More than that, the way the rest of him moved--hips loose but perfectly in beat, arms whipcord strong swinging his partner, head perpetually tossed back in a laugh--

Then Bucky’s eyes met his across the club, and he brightened even further, waving a hand. Steve felt his face heat as he saluted, then turned and took a long pull of whiskey to calm his jitteriness. By the time he dared turn back the song had ended and Bucky was bounding up to him through the crowd.

“Grant!” he smiled, like the cat that got the cream. “Dance with me?”

“I can’t dance,” Steve admitted. Never in his life had he bemoaned that fact like he inwardly did now, but he kept his chin high.

“You can dance with  _ me _ ,” Bucky said, all arrogance.

“How about I don’t want to,” Steve shot back, and Bucky answered by crowding against his bar stool with an intense look that had Steve’s insides squirming.

“Don’t believe you,” he said after a scrutinizing look, then grabbed Steve’s hands to pull him off the stool.

And for some reason Steve let himself be dragged onto the floor as the band started up their next song--luckily something a little slower-paced, but just a little. Bucky showed him the basics of the Lindy, laughing when he first did it and Steve only stared at him in confusion. He slowed it down after that. 

“You really can’t dance,” he laughed when Steve stepped on him, and Steve’s face twisted into a scowl that had Bucky laughing harder.

“Didn’t want to in the first--” Steve spit back, but Bucky silenced him with a small, punctuated kiss.

Steve blinked at him in shock as Bucky smiled softer, saying, “Don’t worry. My feet can handle it.”

(Steve hoped that was true after the second--third--fourth-- _ fifth _ time.)

Bucky’s eyes were bright and genuine still, though, looking like he was having the time of his life even as his partner fumbled around him. Steve could feel his touchy lungs start to protest at the exertion, but he wouldn’t deny any moment he got with Bucky’s bright gaze on him. It filled his blood with something much better than oxygen.

When the song finally ended Steve would admit to feeling faint. Probably time to sit down. Fluidly the band transitioned to a slow tune, however, and Bucky pulled Steve against him. “How you been?” he asked innocently, moving them slow enough for Steve to catch his breath and follow.

“Just trying to make it to tomorrow,” Steve said, shrugging. It was all his life consisted of, lately.

Bucky’s brows pulled together. “Yeah? How you managing?”

“Lately, just fine, thanks,” Steve huffed. “You?”

“What?”

“How have you been?”

Bucky thought for a moment, then smiled. “Been waiting around hoping to see this one punk again, actually.”

Steve was already flushed from exertion, luckily, though his skin could always get redder. “Any luck?”

“Feeling lucky tonight,” Bucky replied, and leaned down.

The kiss was sweet, simple, the first of its kind between them. Steve wondered idly what it’d be like to wake to that sort of kiss, to see that face, every morning--

And pulled back, laughing at himself. The sound came out bitter, though, humorless and unkind. Bucky frowned down at him in confusion. 

“You got anywhere to be tonight?” Steve asked anyway, ready to take what he could get, and wrangle as much of the rest the universe would let him.

Bucky’s confusion melted, eyes going dark. “I think so,” he replied.

\--

This was only the second time, and Steve was taking him to his bed. He could blame it on that grin of Bucky’s, the one that convinced you didn’t  _ want _ to say no to anything he asked. They walked a respectable distance apart through Red Hook, Bucky with that swagger and Steve with his hands shoved in his pockets. But he could feel Bucky’s gaze on him like something hot on his neck, pushing Steve forward as fast as his quaky lungs would allow. Still, not very fast, all things considered.

When they made it to his apartment, too late for decent folk to be about the hallways, all Steve could do was shut and lock the door before the other man pounced.

Hot breath on his neck, lips that left a burning trail up to his jaw as Bucky reached his ear, pulling gently at the lobe with his teeth. Hands sliding up his flank, squeezing. Steve had to bite his lip to stopper a loud moan.

“Wait,” he gasped when his breath really started picking up, getting raggedy up his throat. Bucky immediately stepped back, and the cold absence of him was a thing to mourn. 

Steve turned around, facing the taller man with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry--got asthma,” he explained, forcing his breath to steady. “Danced--too much--tonight--”

“Hey hey, let’s sit you down,” Bucky’s voice softened further, if possible, and he placed an arm helpfully around Steve’s shoulders. But Steve, who wasn’t about to be coddled by the man he intended to fuck, shrugged off the arm and went to sit on his bed himself.

“Just--give me a minute,” he said sharply, and laid back, counting between each breath. Ignoring Bucky as he idly walked around the tiny box apartment, whistling quietly.

“I like your place,” Bucky said, and when Steve snorted, amended, “Not like I’d pick it over somewhere a bit less dangerous. But its cozy--only got what you need, in here.”

“It’s a dump,” Steve said. His mouth pulled up without his say-so when that got Bucky laughing.

“Shit, I’m being too loud,” Bucky whispered, sitting next to Steve at his bed. His eyes were dark in the unlit room, glancing up and down Steve’s body like there was something to see.

(Steve was a lot less to see than most, realistically.)

“S’alright,” Steve said, feeling his lungs finally unclench. He sat up carefully. “Only wall I share with is Benny, he’s a regular at Sandy’s--”

Bucky’s face immediately soured up.

“You got a problem with that?” Steve asked, eyes narrowing.

Bucky glanced at the wall suspiciously. “I think he might be a copper,” was all he said, before Steve choked on a laugh. “What? He--”

“Said the same thing about you, Buck,” Steve said between laughs. His chest was starting to tighten back up again--shit. “Tell me--something about yourself,” he said, trying to breathe steady again.

Bucky’s brow pulled together, full lips puckered. “Well I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. His eyes skirted away from Steve, looking distantly through the wall. “I guess . . . you already know I love dancing. But it was my mama who taught me. She’s the best lead there is, though you can’t say that in front of Dad. But she said I had to learn to follow first, and then I could lead, started me up the second I could balance on two feet . . .”

He continued on that vein for a while, and Steve started managing big, full breaths once again. He could have stopped Bucky at any point then, gotten to the business of their meeting, but the man was enchanting--that cleft chin, those eyes that lit up with his grin, the way he ran a hand gently over his pomade-slick hair--

“What you staring at?” Bucky said at one point. Steve hadn’t been paying attention to what he’d been saying for a while now. 

“You got a bat hanging in your cave,” he immediately jested, reaching up to swipe the man’s nose. Bucky laughed, both surprised and affronted, before pinning Steve to the bed. One knee over Steve’s hips, straddling him, hands around Steve’s arms as he leaned down and kissed Steve senseless.

Problem was--problem was, Steve was getting a bit senseless, from the lack of oxygen.

“Sorry,” he gasped, pulling back. Bucky’s face above him was immediately full of concern.

“Did I do something--?”

“Just--just having trouble breathing tonight,” Steve said, managing to take only half a lungful of air. “I think--I’m sorry--I don’t think, I can handle you fucking me this time.”

“Oh, is that what was happening tonight?” Bucky said, smirking. “What if I just wanted to kiss you?”

Steve glared. “Then I’d tell you to fuck off.”

Bucky let out another laugh though, and just the sound softened Steve’s edges.

(He had a lot of those.)

“Alright, alright. I  _ was _ hoping for more than a kiss,” Bucky conceded, before leaning and pecking one onto Steve’s lips. “But what do you think you could handle?”

Through trial and error, they found out.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make all the hard work worth it :)


End file.
